


garden of stars

by niloofar



Category: Granblue Fantasy (Video Game)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, oh also I cried, pure fluff, theres really not much else to it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-06
Updated: 2018-06-06
Packaged: 2019-05-18 18:35:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14858063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/niloofar/pseuds/niloofar
Summary: There are many words to be spoken during the long hours of the night, to fill in the silence of restless moments. Lucio speaks, and Sandalphon finds himself a small step closer to the answer of a centuries old question.





	garden of stars

**Author's Note:**

> Special thanks to the wonderful person who helped me edit this! Well they did the actual work so thank you so much!

Sandalphon finds him on the deck.

  
He was hoping there would be no one there, at the particular spot he occupies when he snaps awake in the middle of the night and can’t find the will to sleep again. It’s far too early for many to be awake. He knows the helmsman wakes up in intervals throughout the night, to keep watch on the ship, and that there are a few night owls on-board other than himself, but they usually keep to their rooms instead of venturing outside.

  
And yet, that person was there. Sitting over the ledge in a precarious position, his head craned back to look at the still-dark skies. Sandalphon is still a little too far to make out his expression, and in his curiosity he finds himself taking several steps forward before he stops himself, but it’s too late by then.

  
Lucio tilts his head down, already smiling when their eyes meet, “Good morning, Sandalphon.” 

Although he tries, he doesn’t catch himself in time. His gaze strays from Lucio’s face down to his boots, lingering for only a second before he looks up again. But Lucio’s eyes are sharp. They catch the movement, and they dim, although his smile never disappears.   
Feeling a sickening heaviness in his belly, Sandalphon swallows and closes the remaining steps until he stands next to him, turning to lean his back on the ledge.

  
“Good morning.” The grumble isn't anywhere near how warm Lucio’s greeting was, but it’s all he can muster. He glances at him from the corner of his eye, catching the fleeting look of mild surprise before the smile returned.

  
For several moments, silence settles. Sandalphon has never been the talkative kind, not really, but then he’s never had many to speak with in his life in the first place. It’s one of the many what ifs he ponders upon before quickly diverting his attention to something else. If he had someone, maybe a several someone’s, around him, would he have laughed as easily as the singularity does? Reached out to others as sincerely as the girl in blue does? Smiled, in the same heartfelt way the one next to him always would? His life has been one hasty decision after another, at the times he's had the freedom to choose. There was never enough time to pause and reconsider the options, he was always too desperate to fulfill what he desired, too afraid of the shackles waiting for him if he was too slow and was caught. But now there is time, indeed. Now, he can think, and in his thoughts, he has found one truth.

  
Sandalphon isn’t one for too many words, but awkward silences between him and Lucio itch at his skin. And yet, he couldn’t find anything to say, to fill in the gap between them. Frustrated at his own incompetence, he dishes out the first words that came to mind, “It’s not even morning, is it?”

  
To his relief, Lucio laughs a little, “No, I suppose it’s not.” He looks back up at the sky, “But it’s not unpleasant. Look, there are many stars in the sky.”

  
Sandalphon does, although he doesn’t quite know what’s so special about it. He’s right, though. The skies were indeed decorated in many, many stars—little dots of white across a blackened sheet. It’s poetic, he supposes, and unable to restrain himself, he snorts, “You would find something like this interesting.”

  
“Pardon?” Lucio looks genuinely confused, and it almost makes him chuckle.  
Almost.

  
“Never mind.” He responds airily, feeling Lucio’s perplexed gaze on him before he turns away, back up towards the sky he finds so mystifying.

  
Sandalphon thinks of it as dull.

  
“The humans have stories.” Lucio says.

  
“... So they do.”

  
“About the stars,” Lucio elaborates with a smile, “Many, many stories, and they vary depending on where you go. Some believe each star is a home to a deity. Some believe the stars themselves are deities. They believe that the comets are gifts sent from one lover among the gods to another.”

  
“That’s absurd.” Sandalphon replies, blunt. He turns to look at him with an expression that makes his lack of interest obvious.

  
Lucio laughed in response, “It’s what makes them entertaining.” He pauses, seeming to contemplate something, and then grows sombre. The change was almost too sudden, and yet more amazing is how little his expression seems to change. He seemed to dim instead, as though there was an invisible light surrounding him before that dissipated upon the change in his emotions. _That_ is absurd, Sandalphon knows, but he can’t help it, staring intently at Lucio, stubbornly burying any traitorous thoughts that resurfaced at the sight of that face and what memories they invoked in him.

  
He watches as Lucio puts his thoughts in order, an action that visibly shows across his face, even as he never seems to give voice to those thoughts. Not the ones Sandalphon wants to hear the most. Those are always kept far away, locked within the silence he stubbornly keeps.

  
“I’ve heard a story once.” Lucio begins, and Sandalphon looks away from his frown, disliking the sudden heaviness taking up space around them, “I think it was from a desert island. Their people... they believe that the souls of the dead rise from the ashes they turn them into, and become a star in the sky.”

  
_Ah. I see._

  
Sandalphon’s jaw clenches. He can feel Lucio’s eyes on him, flicking towards him, trying to gouge his reaction without seeming rude. It almost has him snorting, that poor attempt Lucio makes at masking his concern, but he’s too busy swallowing back all the wrong words he could say and ruin this civil conversation for good.

  
“That’s foolish.” He says at last, the clenching of his hands the only sign of his boiling emotions, “It’s no more than a pathetic attempt at comfort. The dead are gone. No amount of stories will bring them back.”

  
“But it’s comforting.” Lucio retorts, voice soft, almost a murmur, “to know the one you miss is watching over you from afar...”

  
If Sandalphon had deigned to look at him in that moment, he may have noticed the wistfulness that darkened the blue of his eyes. He may have heard the yearning in his voice better. But he shuts his eyes instead, hanging his head down, “There’s no true comfort to be gained from a lie!”

  
Silence dawns.

  
Sandalphon hadn’t meant to raise his voice, to make it seem like he’s throwing his anger at Lucio. (He never has, not even in the worst days of his anxiety when simply looking at the other primal beast’s face brought all the vindictive anger and spiking pain just underneath his skin, ready to tear themselves free and ruin him in the process. He knows better than this. Than to blame the innocent for what they are. But he’s weak, incomplete, and the knowledge that Lucifer would never have made any of these mistakes makes the misery sizzle inside him all the more.)

  
He wonders if it’s going to come to an end one day, wonders if he’ll ever be free.  
If he’ll want to be free.

  
“Sandalphon, do you know what it is that makes the sky blue?” 

  
His head snaps up, startled, as he utters, “What?”

  
Lucio looks serene, thoughtful, and because he’s not smiling so easily in that moment, it makes it that much easier to give in to his urges, the desire to pretend it’s him—  
“I think it’s the stars. And the moon. The clouds, and the skyships... everything we see that’s a different colour. We see them all in their own colours... and that’s what brings out the blue of the sky to our eyes.”

  
A pause, and Sandalphon merely stares at him, unsure of what to say.

  
Foolish, absurd, unscientific—those are suitable words. But he can’t say them. His throat seems to have closed and his tongue has grown heavy.

  
“ _Perhaps... a question is really just a wish.”_

  
The familiar words echoe, so disturbingly and painfully clear in his ears that it makes him physically ache. But his mind didn’t linger there for long. It leaps forward, to a question of his own heart.

  
_Is there a wish of yours in those words?_

  
He wants to ask. He was going to ask. But when he opens his mouth, Lucio suddenly turns his head back to him, an odd expression across his face, lips curled in a beautiful smile that wasn’t reaching his eyes.

  
“The farther an object becomes to us, the more easily we see the differences between it and what surrounds it. Therefore, we see it most clearly for what it is that way. I believe that, but I’m not sure whether it’s correct. I want to know. Help me, Sandalphon.” 

And then he’s not there anymore.

  
Sandalphon stands frozen, staring at the spot where Lucio had occupied earlier on the ledge. It’s empty, and it feels like it takes far too long for his brain to register that, but it doesn’t. Indeed, only a moment passes before his own foot is on the wood, and he leaps.  
The wind blows against his face, would’ve taken his breath if he wasn’t what he is. But he’s an angel, a winged beast, no matter how many times those wings were shackled down along with his limbs. No matter how many years he spent or would spend in a cage.

  
No matter even, how disgraceful and humble those wings were.

  
Sandalphon can fly—he can, he will, he’ll never stop and especially not now because he’s falling, Lucio is falling and he can see nothing other than that rapidly descending figure. Boneless, almost as if he has passed out, and in those short moments of panic Sandalphon thinks of blind spots and enemies hidden in shadows who would take even the most honourable lives.

  
His wings beat together, faster still, and he’s so close now, but he can’t help fearing that he’ll be late again. His lips hang open at the thought, and he cries out, voice just loud enough to echo in his own ears but would no doubt be lost through the space between them.

  
“ _Lucio_!”

  
His hand is caught.

  
Sandalphon stares, panting and heaving, as his vision is painted in the pure white of feathers.

  
They stray, falling from the majestic wings they once had a home in, fluttering here and there before fading from sight. The wings flex and shift, working to hold their owner steadily in the air.

  
Yes, their owner.

  
Not a thief nor a fake, as Sandalphon’s most poisonous thoughts suggest when he sees them. But now, he feels awe and relief deep in the corners of his heart. They were there, clean and unstained and protecting him, protecting Lucio, who holds on to his hand still, fingers wrapped firmly around Sandalphon’s loose fist.

  
“You’re safe.” He says, stupefied, and hears a laugh in response, sounding as soft as those white feathers would be to the touch.

  
“I am, aren’t I.” It’s a statement more than a question.

  
A squeeze on his hand has Sandalphon’s head clearing slowly, fearful thoughts diminishing to the back of his mind to be replaced with more rational ones.

  
Namely, the realisation of what exactly has occurred.

  
He tears his hand free. The action barely softens the edge of anger pulsing inside him. He wants to beat something with his fist, most preferably that foolishly smiling face that remains just so cheerful even as Sandalphon’s blood boils and it definitely shows. Lucio has said so himself, and so did Djeeta. They’d told him how easily his anger shows, and even then but especially now, he’s not sorry about it. He wants it to show. To display a face full of murderous rage because that _rat_ is still smiling, _gods_.

  
“ _You_...!” His voice trembles, hands clenching until they ached, “ _You_...!”

  
Lucio’s face softens. He reaches out to him, his hands nearing Sandalphon’s, but stops when he pulls them away. His smile remains, though he looks clearly apologetic now.

  
“I apologise. I didn’t intend to scare you.”

  
Sandalphon shakes, and grits out through clenched teeth, “I’m not scared.”

  
“You were. When we reached each other, you were.” Lucio reaches again, and this time Sandalphon doesn’t pull away, his lips pressing into a thin line as he feels warm hands covering his own, wrapping fingers around them almost shyly.

  
“I really didn’t mean to,” Lucio insists, meeting his eyes, “I simply wanted to...”

  
“Prove a point.”

  
The anger has passed, leaving in its wake an odd calm.

  
Perhaps it was the creeping realisations crawling through his own head, what he has done, what he has thought and felt, but he feels that he can’t be angry anymore. It feels inappropriate somehow. Lucio’s eyes seem to spark as he takes notice of his sudden calm, and it bothers him, but not as much as it should.

  
“Yes.” The reply is soft, and the blue gaze shifts away as Lucio hangs his head, his thumbs shifting over Sandalphon’s knuckles, which were uncovered for once. The small movement makes an odd tingle rush through his arms, and Sandalphon attributes it to his lack of experience with physical contact and nothing else.

  
“I wanted... for you to prove me right. And I rushed ahead. Although I did tell you... I was just so eager to know, I didn’t ask properly.”

  
“Did I?” His frown is returning, and with it, Sandalphon feels like he’s gotten himself under control once more. He stares at Lucio judgmentally, and Lucio looks up again, meeting his eyes with a frown of his own.

  
“You did. But I'm not quite satisfied... somehow.”

  
“That’s because this is foolish, and you are too.” As the words are leaving his lips ruthlessly, he yanks his hands free from that uncomfortably warm hold. They extend, grabbing onto Lucio’s collar and pulling him forward sharply, enough that their foreheads collide. And for a moment, he almost regrets it, because the blue of Lucio’s eyes are so familiar but the unguarded confusion in them is not, and his lips are red and shaped just so but the gasp that leaves them sounds foreign and too unfitting of the picture Sandalphon has memorised of them in his head.

  
He catches himself before he drowns too deeply in thought, and tries to ignore the warmth of Lucio’s breath as he speaks.

  
“Just because you notice the difference between things doesn’t mean you see them for what they are. For that, you need to come closer. As close as you could be. Like this.”

  
He punctuates the words with a bump of his forehead to Lucio’s, this one very much intentional and aimed to hurt, before shoving him away and turning to face away from him, not out of anger—as it may have looked—but something else. Something to do with the uncomfortable heat on his neck that seems to be crawling upwards to his face regardless of his attempts to push it back.

  
He doesn’t want Lucio to see it, not this face.

  
He hovers in the air, waiting, staying behind as he wants to know what Lucio will say next. Wants to figure out what this is about because he still doesn’t understand it, Lucio’s answer to that question, the wish that resided in it. He doesn’t understand it about as much as he can’t understand Lucio’s very existence. He doesn't understand how honest and open he is but so skilful in hiding his secrets. How he looks to the sky with hope even as he sometimes speaks of his own insecurities.

  
How he reaches out to Sandalphon, even with the rift between them so easily seen.

  
He’s trying. He’s trying so hard, and it’s what makes him only inhale when he feels Lucio’s hand on his wrist, gently tugging to make Sandalphon face him again. He relents, if only because he’s suddenly mindful of the times he should’ve relented but didn’t and hurt others in the process—and finds himself facing Lucio’s smile again.

  
“You’re right... I believe I need to think this through again.”

  
“You should.”

  
Lucio continued to smile, but it trembles, looking almost shy as he speaks again, "I thought you would say that I shouldn't waste time on such thoughts."

  
Sandalphon's brows wrinkle.

  
Yes, he should've, not because of the absurdity of the thoughts, but because now he has to answer to that. His hands remain limp in Lucio's grasp, not pulling away but not holding them either, as he grumbles, "I suppose you'd have much to ponder when you're up all nights of the week."

  
Lucio's face momentarily slacks, "You noticed...?"

  
There is something about the clear surprise, unhidden in the widening of those blue eyes, that Sandalphon doesn't like. It makes something clench in his chest, the implications of those words wedging themselves physically in his throat, cutting off his voice.

  
_You care enough to notice?_

  
He doesn't realize how he's firmly clenching Lucio's hands until he feels them squeezing back, thumbs tracing over his knuckles gently.

  
"Sandalphon...?" Lucio looks concerned, and it makes him want to look away. But he upholds his gaze. He knows that out of all his reactions, the aversion of his eyes is what Lucio hates the most, no matter the meaning behind the actions. It's not like Lucio can tell what lies in his deepest thoughts, no matter how clearly his emotions reflect at times. He can't tell, because if he did, he would know Sandalphon hates having to look away from his because he can't stand it sometimes, just as much as he does.

  
With a sharp inhale, he retorts, "It's not so difficult to tell when you look hard enough."

  
It's about as honest as he can be. He studies Lucio, and watches as he seems to glow for a moment. Ah, so he understood. Good, because Sandalphon has laid his feelings out in the open before him one too many times in just the past hour.

  
(He refuses to think about how much such incidents are growing in frequency. How easy it is to simply breathe after being honest with him, not just because it feels like another part of the too heavy weight on his shoulders is lifted every time, but because... Because of him. Of how easily he smiles, how he seems to understand and shows it without having to speak reckless words like the girl in blue does.)

  
There's a tug on his hands, and it pulls him out of his thoughts. He looks down to see Lucio, whose eyes twinkled in mirth—Sandalphon wonders if he'll ever grow used to seeing that face being so openly expressive, without even a little effort or restraint—lean back, wings flapping as he went down, pulling Sandalphon along.

  
Sandalphon is too confused at first to react, letting himself be dragged down and then to the left, before he snaps out of his stupor and scowls at him.

  
"What are you doing?"

  
"Exercise." Lucio replies innocently, in a deliberate manner that made it clear he wants him to know he's lying, "Perhaps if I grow tired enough, I can sleep."

  
"It's too late to sleep! Let me go." Sandalphon complains, loud as the wind blew against his face when Lucio spun them around suddenly in mid-air, all the while not making any effort at being breaking free from Lucio’s grasp, "Are you listening?!"

  
"Please," The word sounded sweet to the point where it should've sickened him, but it doesn't, "Just for a while? I'm already starting to feel tired."

  
The words are followed, ironically, by a faster flap of his wings that propelled them down and then up, followed by another spin.

  
"You're being awfully hyperactive though," Sandalphon sneers back, but it doesn't quite carry the right amount of venom and so Lucio seems to decide he can entirely ignore it. A selfish rat indeed. Frustrated at himself for his apparent inability to pronounce a proper "no", he scowls through the entire thing. The thing being something uncomfortably similar to a bird dance.

  
Sandalphon shuts away the thought immediately, convincing himself they likely would look no more than a pair of inebriated fools to anyone who could see them. Luckily, there were no islands nearby and they were far enough from the ship to be hidden from the sights of anyone who would happen to be near the deck at this ungodly hour.

  
_But what if someone did see? What then?_

  
It's a question he can't care enough to find an answer to. He's not a crowd pleaser, and Lucio doesn't need to be, seeing as it comes as a natural talent for him to charm others without trying.

  
But there's an answer to Lucio’s question somewhere.

  
He sees it in twinkling blue eyes that are suddenly close to him, in the ticklish feeling of silvery hair brushing against his cheeks as their foreheads press together. It's in leather-clad hands grasping his own and a smile whose warmth reaches his very core.

  
_Perhaps it's not so bad after all._

  
Not this. Not whatever it is that makes the sky blue.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I was going Somewhere with this but I kinda got sidetracked... I haven't finished a piece in ages though so there's that for an excuse.
> 
> Thank you for reading!


End file.
